Living in a suburbia tract house doesn't bode well for an extraordinary vegetable garden. However, my husband and I weren't daunted, as I've particularly been known to go against the grain. It all started in the fall after a singularly trying trip to the grocery store. The trip was an after work special, with picked over produce; wilted lettuce, rock hard cardboard tomatoes, and cucumbers that looked like they had been tortured for all the bruises. Adding to the produce catastrophe, there were long lines and shrieking children wanting a cookie. Arriving home, I slammed the front door while juggling six plastic bags of the meager store offerings in frustration.
"I've had enough of that store! It's not as if we live in Russia where fresh vegetables are in short supply. It's pitiful! This is Texas not Russia! Why can't the grocery store buyers go to South Texas? Where do they get this stuff, the Mojave desert?" I bemoaned.
"Whoa now," my husband replied calmly taking a few of the bags out of my hands. "I have an answer, I think. Why can't we plant our own garden in the backyard?"
"Yeah, right," I said doubtingly. "I don't know a thing about growing vegetables and we live in a subdivision."
He could tell that I was too frustrated to go further with the topic, so he quietly changed the subject and put the groceries away. Our golden retriever, Summer, always sensing when I'm at my lowest, followed me to the bedroom as I changed out of my work clothes. Her happy disposition could always lift my mood. As I hung my dress, I pondered my husband's suggestion. We had only lived in our house for a year and the backyard wasn't landscaped yet. It was on the list of the many tasks, but had not yet made it to the top as a priority.
Over supper, the subject of a vegetable garden surfaced again. We both agreed that our backyard would support a small garden. Apparently my husband had been thinking about it more than I had as he produced a drawing of where the garden could be placed, materials needed, even what types of vegetables to plant. I was amazed and readily agreed.
The following weekend we purchased landscape timbers and arranged to have a truckload of good quality soil dumped in our driveway. On a small plot, we had decided to create a raised bed. The timbers went together quickly and the foundation of our garden was in place. My job was to wheelbarrow the soil. After twelve trips back and forth with loads of dirt, I was feeling pretty weary. We raked the soil smooth and stood back to admire our little garden. I could picture the fresh tomatoes ripening under the sun. Later that evening, my head hit the pillow hard, exhausted, but excited at the prospect of planting the following day.
The garden center opened early at eight and we were the first ones there. We bought tomatoes, cucumbers, and radishes. Since this was essentially an experiment for us, we thought that if we could grow three easily grown vegetables, we could always try something different. We planted each plant carefully, as if it were going to produce gold, watering them in.
The wait for our produce seemed to take an eternity. Each afternoon after work, I looked forward to a sneak peak to see how the plants were doing. They quietly grew and soon there were blooms on both the cukes and the tomatoes. Little green tomatoes began forming and I grew anxious to see the first blush of red, the wait to savor the first bite of fresh tomatoes was almost more than I could bear. I even counted the tomatoes of which there were fourteen, thinking that was pretty good for a first garden. Being new to experience, we hadn't even fertilized!
One evening, as I looked at the garden and did my count, I came up short by four tomatoes. I looked closer at the plants, knowing that we've got some bug eating them up.
There was nothing, it was if they had disappeared into the cosmos. I called my husband over to take a look and he couldn't see any reason why they disappeared. The plants were vibrant and there was no indication of any bugs. The cucumbers, radishes and tomatoes looked terrific, except for the missing vegetables. We consulted books, asked around to more knowledgeable gardeners, but to no avail. Each evening one or two tomatoes vanished. Before long, we had terrific plants, but only a few green tomatoes left.
Very early one morning, I let Summer out to use the restroom while I dressed for work. It was a usual routine and by the time I put on my shoes and got my coffee, I knew she would be ready to let in. I peeked through the window of the back door, expecting to see her happy retriever face. Summer wasn't at the door, so I opened it and called. Expecting her to obey immediately as she usually did, she still hadn't come after a minute or two. I walked onto our little patio and glanced around the yard. I spotted a wagging golden tail, in the garden of all places. In all the time we spent in the garden, Summer had shown no interest in the vegetable plants. I tiptoed over to see what she was looking at, thinking that she had spied a mouse or some other critter. There she was her eyes half closed; her lips curled back slightly, gently separating a green tomato from the plant. She chewed it twice and swallowed, then went in search of another find. At first I was angry, but you had to laugh. She was so careful, as if she were trying to preserve the future offerings of her favorite vegetable. I called her over to me, scolded her gently but patting her head still, and whispered, "If you wanted green tomatoes, I would have given you a few, just don't eat them all!"
Needless to say, our next project for our little vegetable patch resulted in a picket fence, tall enough to keep our happy, green tomato eating retriever at bay!